


Flying is for the Angry

by kams_log



Series: Destiel Prompts & One Shots [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Bad First Meetings, Businessman Castiel, Cas and Dean are grumpy idiots, Conflict, Fear of Flying, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, Mistakes, Resolution, Switched Luggage, Teacher Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4573404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/pseuds/kams_log
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hates flying. He's already grumpy as hell to begin with, and it's his only wish that he can survive eight hours of flight without an annoying passenger beside him.</p><p>Just his luck that he gets the hottest guy ever as his seating companion, but also the biggest asshole in the goddamn universe.</p><p>At least when he's off the flight he doesn't have to deal with him anymore... right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying is for the Angry

**Author's Note:**

> this was the best prompt ever from deanandhiscas.tumblr.com (anika)
> 
> i hope you guys like it!

If there was a hell, Dean was pretty sure he was living in it.

He was already grouchy as hell to begin with. He had a teacher’s conference to go to, something that had been planned and expected for months. Even though Dean would rather drive his Impala, even he had to admit it’d look weird to drive across the entire country for an event that would barely last longer than the weekend.

So, flying was the only other option, and Dean was fully prepared to white knuckle it for the entire flight. It was wishful thinking to hope he wouldn’t have to sit next to anyone.

But of course, he’d be placed next to the biggest asshole in the goddamn universe.

The guy was a businessman. That much was obvious. He was dressed up in a fancy suit, tie, shoes so shined you could probably eat right off of them. The very air about him _screamed_ ‘I’m better than you’ and it was all Dean could do not to throttle him when the guy sat down and asked, “Are you one of those individuals who get air sick?”

Dean grit his teeth and tried not to glare. “No,” he snapped. “But mind your own business and maybe I won’t change my mind.”

The guy rolled his eyes and huffed. He pulled out a magazine and effectively placed his face between the pages.

Good, Dean thought. He didn’t need a talker companion anyway.

As soon as the plane lifted off the ground Dean started reevaluating his belief system. About five minutes into the flight, he’d mentally redrafted his will, and ten minutes in he was seriously considering asking the guy next to him to knock him unconscious.

From the looks the guy kept giving him, Dean was pretty sure he’d oblige.

He was halfway ready to ask the guy how good he could punch when the man passed him a brown bag with an air of distaste.

“If you ‘change your mind,’ please keep it in _that_ direction,” the man grumbled.

Dean swallowed down twelve choice words and snatched the bag to his lap.

He mentally added, _kill the rich business guy who sat next to me_ in his will.

…

This was an eight hour flight. Eight. Hours. They weren’t even in an hour and Dean was wondering why he hadn’t bought any medication in advance.

He groaned, earning a disapproving look from the businessman. Dean decided he could suck it up.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Dean asked, trying not to sound like he didn’t care as much as he felt.

The guy raised an eyebrow at him and frowned. “I’m the director of marketing at Novak Industries. Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Of course he’d heard of it. Anybody with half a brain had heard of it.

“What do you do?” The man continued.

Dean stared at him skeptically, but replied, “I teach college level math. I’m sure it’s nothing as fancy as you do, but hey, it pays bills.”

The man hummed and turned a page of his magazine. Dean was sure he’d already read it three times by now.

“I’m sure,” he replied curtly.

Dean glared out the window.

…

“Don’t you have anything _else_ to do?” Dean snapped three hours in. He’d finally distracted himself with a movie and headphones, even stooping low enough to drawing on a notepad he’d brought with him.

But Mr. Businessman had been staring at him off and on for all three of those hours. It was unnerving to say the least.

“No,” he deadpanned.

Dean rolled his eyes and tossed over the notepad and pen. “Go wild,” he ordered.

He waited a few minutes before glancing back. The man was staring at the notepad, but he wasn’t drawing. Instead he was going through all the ones Dean had made in the past hour.

“Um, do you mind?” Dean asked.

The man looked confused. “Were they meant to be private?”

“No–I just–” Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Never mind. Do whatever you want.”

…

The following five hours were spent mostly in silence. At some point, Mr. Businessman fell asleep for a couple hours, and Dean cursed him for the ability. Dean, meanwhile, spent his time going through as many movies as possible, striking gold with an old monster movie favorite.

Finally, the plane started to descend and Dean once again white knuckled the seat until the plane came to a complete halt.

There were no goodbye’s or ‘have a good evening.’ Instead there was silence, tension, and a very deep desire to get the hell off the plane and get their luggage, preferably without talking to another living soul.

Dean barely glanced at his suitcase as he tugged it off the belt. It was the same color and shape as his. Had the right tag. He rolled it out and put it in the trunk of the taxi he hailed.

He was on autopilot as he made his way up to his hotel room. He didn’t notice anything was wrong until the suitcase was on his bed and Dean was ready to go to bed.

His heart stopped when he opened it.

This was not his suitcase.

Inside were sleek business suits, all pressed in plastic bags ready for the following morning. There were no cheap blazers and second hand suits in sight. Dean wasn’t even sure there were pajamas in the bag at all.

He swore and ran a hand over his face, carefully going through the pockets in hopes of finding some kind of identification.

He found a picture in the second pocket. Dean was ready to bury himself in his grave early.

It was Mr. Businessman, plus a grey kitten, and a redheaded woman and gold haired man. They were all smiling, wearing casual clothing on a deck. The kitten sat in Mr. Businessman’s lap, propping it’s head and paws up on the man’s shoulder, peering at the camera while Mr. Businessman had to crane his neck around to look.

Dean swallowed and went through the rest of the pockets. Luckily enough, there was a phone number and name.

Castiel Novak.

Dean closed his eyes and called the number with the hotel phone.

“ _This is Novak_ ,” the businessman’s voice grumbled over the line.

Dean took a deep breath and counted to three.

“This is the guy from the plane.”

There was silence. Then, “ _The teacher_?”

“Yeah,” Dean coughed into his hand. “Um, I don’t know how it happened, but I accidentally grabbed your suitcase at the airport. It looked identical to mine–”

“ _I think I have yours as well_ ,” Novak interrupted. Dean sighed in relief. He hadn’t even thought about that.

“Look, can we meet up? Trade our bags back?”

“ _I have an address_.”

…

Thirty minutes later Dean sat in a coffee shop, staring out at the city night life as Novak pulled up in a sleek black car, suit still pressed and neat as the man came inside.

He had the suitcase, and Dean had his. They were quiet for a moment, then Dean exclaimed, “I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Novak shrugged. “It happens to everyone.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want you to think I did it on purpose,” Dean grumbled. They exchanged the bags, but Novak’s gaze didn’t leave his.

“Why would I think that?” He asked.

Dean shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly the nicest guy on the flight.”

“You seemed stressed.”

Dean choked on a laugh.

“Uh, yeah. That’s an understatement.”

The man was quiet for a few moments. Dean looked away, fiddled with the strap on his bag. Why were they still standing there? Didn’t the guy have anywhere else to go?

“You’re afraid of flying,” Novak said suddenly, making Dean jump.

“What?”

Novak looked pleased, and even… fond. “For all of my brother’s talk, he hates flying as well. Can’t stand to get on a plane if he can help it. Something about not trusting anything he can’t do himself.”

“Might have something to do with it,” Dean shrugged, face flushing in embarrassment.

“It’s fine, you know,” Novak continued. “It’s perfectly natural to be hesitant about flying. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Sure,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Says the guy who probably flies for a living.”

Novak laughed. It was a bright sound. Dean’s lips twitched, ready for a smile Dean wasn’t expecting.

“I do fly more than most people. But that doesn’t mean much.”

Dean hesitated, watched the way the man in front of him smiled at him kindly.

“You know what,” Dean said, thought occurring, “we started out on the wrong foot. My name’s Dean Winchester. I teach college math and I really hate flying.”

The man smiled back, shaking Dean’s offered hand. “Castiel Novak. I have a very busy work schedule that I hate and I wish I spent less time flying around and more time at home with my cat.”

Dean laughed.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Please.”

…

On the flight home, Dean was more than a little surprised to see the same face as his traveling companion. But this time, instead of a frown as welcome, there was a bright smile and a hand gesture to join. And this time, when the flight took off, Castiel let Dean hold his hand till the aftershocks were over.

**Author's Note:**

> me: lovefromdean.tumblr.com
> 
> original post: http://lovefromdean.tumblr.com/post/126619733832/prompt-businessmancas-and-teacherdean-just-got


End file.
